LitaWrites (real_lawyer) wrote,

Tossed Salad Friday

~~ Overheard: “I gained six pounds since last weekend, but I swear that all I ate was corn and baked beans.”

~~ Also overheard: “Who the hell just waltzes in after two months of silence and says, ‘What’s up?’”

~~ There’s quite a bit of ego-deflation involved when you figure out someone is a one-note complimenter. I first knowingly encountered such a person decades ago when a cousin who’d remarked on my new home’s “tastefulness and warmth” said the same thing to others in the family. (She wasn’t being rude, but she wasn’t being sincere, either.) Just like the woman I saw for the first time in a while who gushed, “You look great! You lost weight, right?” And when I was in the bathroom, I heard her exclaim to another, “Wow, you look great! You lost weight, right?”

~~ My dogs are vegetarian and love, love, love sweet potatoes and carrots (they adore Brussels sprouts even more, but that’s not the point of this story). I was walking one dog in a nearby village when he stopped and squatted. Plastic bag at the ready, I thought nothing of it until a passerby proclaimed loudly to his companion, “Look at that dog! He’s pooping carrots!” As the saying goes, what goes in comes out… in the exact same shape.

~~ Dementia-ville was, as usual, a loud, intrusive, and smelly place. The language was profane, the entreaties and demands for compliance were piercing, and the aroma was rice (and something that may have been triggered by a small barn fire).

~~ The doctor came to visit the patient this week. As I looked to the side to greet him as he strode up our driveway, I felt my legs go out from under me. Concrete met my hip and my knee was on something decidedly not cement. I looked below me and saw a rolling dolly (the moving kind, not the dress-up kind).
My husband apparently took it from the car and got distracted by something, as did I, which is how it came to be a story.

~~ The reason the dolly came to be in the car is another story. Our boat refrigerator died last year and my husband found another reasonably priced one. It was at a marine supply house but they don’t deliver. Which is only an issue because we have two-seater cars.

So we rented a truck and drove an hour, bump, bump, bumping the whole way. When we arrived, I sat in the truck and waited. Let me rephrase that: I sat in a no-frills rented truck parked directly next to a BAIT sign and waited for a 100-pound refrigerator I was going to help haul down a dock and onto a boat.

My husband returned, minus his usual upbeat demeanor. “They don’t have the refrigerator.” What? “Frank told me they had it but they mistook it for someone else’s.”

So we returned, bang, bang, banging all the way, and paid way too much money for the rental of an unneeded and uncomfortable truck, along with the toll on my psyche of that frightening interlude of being next to a BAIT sign.

My husband looked at me and said, “Sorry.” I glared back and hissed, “Task Rabbit.”

~~ The new issue of Boating Times is online:  — there are some helpful summer tips and good stories you’ll enjoy even if you’re not a boater. My favorite feature of the year is our magazine readers’ book recommendations (along with a few of mine):

Dasvidaniya. Have a great weekend.
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